Journal 1

“FRAG, FRAG, FRAG!” A slight figure hunched over a small box, tension arced through her back. She was alone in the middle of the street. Around her, dilapidated building, and on top of those buildings stood dwarves in grey and red and a mushroom cloud decorated their jackets. Sweat beaded on her brow and ran into her eyes. Her hand jerked this way and that, stripping wires, separating bundles, by-passing wires and testing currents. The digital read off ticked down steady, unlike her nerves.

“Think she’ll make it?” One dwarf handed the binoculars to another.
“Not sure,” Through the looking glass, he watched first her hands and then the grim set of her jaw.
“How much time does she have left?” asked the first.
“One minute.”

The quiet empty street was unnerving and her blood roared in her ears. Each beat ticking down with the clock.

56 seconds.

“Faster stupid!”

44 seconds.

“Which one! WHICH ONE!!”

25 seconds.

“This one? Yes, this one!” she separated out the blue wire and placed the blades of her clippers around it, “Ghost help me.” A shield flickered into place, surrounding everything but her hands, “If this goes bad, I’ll miss you guys.”

8 seconds.

CLIP

The kid slowly let out her breath. One eye opened, then the other. The same scorched road, the same run down building. Either she was alive or God had a strange sense of humor after all.
She nearly jumped out of her skin, and most definitely way from the bomb, when she heard sharp clapping, “You’re still alive,” Grinder applauded as he walked up. He held out his hand and she dropped the shield and took it, “Nice work.”
“Thanks,” she beamed down at him.
“WE don’t normally take humans, so I’m not going to let you in,” she blinked at him, dumb founded, “But… but… The test!” she pointed at the inert device, “I thought… Dark said….” Grinder put up a hand, “You ever need anything, supplies, information, stuff like that, you look us up. You’ll be greeted with a lot less guns.” He smiled and clapped her on the back. The others were smiling and nodding.
“Stay out of trouble, Kid,” He motioned for the others and they moved down the street to a row of shiny bikes. He swung his leg over one and looked back at her, “And you tell that old halfer mentor of mine to stop teaching breeders!” his grin softened his words. She laughed and scooped up the bomb, she could always use the parts. Something caught her eye and she spun to stare down the dark ally. A few seconds passed before she shrugged it off and continued on her way to the squatter settlement she called home.

Lights blinked into life as Diode walked through the door. In each hand she carried a large duffle bag. Glancing at the door, she causing it to swing shut and lock. The bags were heaved unceremoniously onto the ratty couch. She strode back to the door and turned the manual lock, slid the chain bolt home. A quick look back at the couch told her she had work to do. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, as strange sensations filtered through her mind, anxiety, fear, and excitement. It had been ten years since Diode had run the shadows and she wasn't as young as she once was. Part of her whispered it was suicide but the other side loved the irresponsible and dangerous life of the Shadowrunner.

Gently, she massaged her tense muscles, as the heavy lined coat came off. It was tossed carelessly over the chair at the bar which separated the kitchen from the living room. Next her holster and gun slid onto the table top. Diode walked towards the fridge, as she did the lights flickered on around her. Stark shelves radiate white in the dim illumination. She knew it would be bare but it didn’t stop her from standing there. The cold air pooled around her legs. Shutting the fridge door, she made a mental note on her Commlink that she needed food and turned it off. Diode detangled the trodes from her hair before setting it down too. Her scalp itched from the sweat and constant contact. Not for the first time did she considered going under the knife for an implant. The thought was dismissed quickly, however, as she sunk down on the couch. Her hand descended into the bag. Seconds later she revealed an ornate dagger. As a piece of a ritual, it was part of an intricate design that would take five days of deep mediation to complete. When it was done, she would once again have a lodge. A place for learning spells. Ten years was the last time she had done this. The last one she tore down because she’d quit the biz. She let the dagger fall back in the bag, “Going to be a long five days.” A resigned smile crept over her features. Standing as she gathered up the bags, she marched into her room.